Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Liberia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Ash Ra Tempel to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yusef Lateef record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sunsets and Hearts record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Angry Samoans,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Arab on Radar,
June of 44,
Ice-T,
The Names,
Massinfluence,
The Gun Club,
Neil Young,
Monks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jawbox,
Unrelated Segments,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Von Mondo,
The Knickerbockers,
Piero Umiliani,
Cybotron,
The Zeros,
The Fall,
Kayak,
Half Japanese,
Hoover,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ronnie Foster,
Rites of Spring,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Harry Pussy,
JFA,
Andrew Hill,
Josef K,
Skaos,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
New York Dolls,
Robert Görl,
Rekid,
Marc Almond,
L. Decosne,
Skriet,
David Axelrod,
Grauzone,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Michelle Simonal,
Con Funk Shun,
Marmalade,
Johnny Clarke,
The Dirtbombs,
Lucky Dragons,
The Index,
Gerry Rafferty,
Nation of Ulysses,
Loose Ends,
Ornette Coleman,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Surgeon,
The Last Poets,
Pole,
Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.